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The Beach
Summary Post 1 of The World Doesn't End Here, The Beach is both the introduction to the world of the Doomsday Tourist, and the post most directly based off of the short story which inspired the Doomsday Tourist to begin with. The apocalypse in The Beach is a Cthulu-like cosmic horror event. It doesn't occur. The Doomsday Tourist claims to be at Venice Beach, which according to this website would have been 19 degrees Celsius around that time, with a south-west win of 11.8 mph, making the character's description plausible. Original Story There's a time loop on the corner of Harris and Finch in Traverse City, Michigan. It's a flat, empty neighborhood. There's a gas station on that corner that no one much uses anymore. The pavements all torn up and it's all chain link fence, pavement, and warehouse buildings as for as the eye can see. Every morning at 11:17am, a barrel chested black labrador wanders to the corner, sniffs around, lifts his leg and urinates on the stop sign, and then crosses the street and disappears at 11:19am. 10 minutes later a red El Camino with tinted windows rolls through the same stop sign, rattling along with a deep hum that vibrates right through you. You can never see who is driving. The time loops seems to have remained largely unnoticed and appears to have little effect on the area. Still, the location should be monitored. I have also detected identical flowers gowing on the north side of 47 churches throughout the United States. All bear the exact same physical features. I've sent in samples for genetic testing, but I have a pretty good idea what they will find. A woman in El Paso claimed that the Virgin Mary appeared to her on the wall of her apartment, but it was just a water stain. I recommended she contact her landlord rather than the Vatican. She seemed generally unconvinced and demanded to see my credentials. Of course, I have no credentials and so was forced to make a hasty retreat. Someone appears to be tagging buildings with arcane sigils that invite dark forces to reside within them in New York. It is unclear whether this is a purposeful use of unknowable dark forces that lurk on the edges of our reality, or just a bored teenager scribbling what they consider to be edgy and aesthetically pleasing images as some form of rebellion. Either way several buildings appear to have possessed tenants, juding from the uptick in murders at the affected residencies. I'm too far away the moment to lead the charge, so I alerted the local Archivist chapter and asked for their aid with this particular problem. Currently I am waiting in a small beachside town in Washington, keeping my eye on a set of coordinates that indicate a point just about a mile away from the shore. There's an old prophecy that indicates that one of the great sea creatures who's gnashing teeth and sucking tentacles haunt our collective dreams may awaken today and rise at this spot to flood the land and reclaim the earth for the ancient beasts which we will once again worship as gods. They say its arrival will be heralded by thunder and the smell of sulphur, so I'm keeping an eye, and a nose, out for those signs, although the radio said the weather was going to be good today, and all I can feel is a gentle North Western ocean breeze. There's a high probability this prophecy is bunk. Most are. But if it isn't, someone should be here to witness the beginning of the end. To be the messenger that brings tidings of a new era of darkness, death and fear. So far, all I have brought are a sandwich, a thermos of coffee, and my old film camera. The sky is a moody grey. I wonder, with renewed anxiety, if this means it's going to thunder. I reassure myself that it probably just means that it's Washington. The state motto is "It's always raining here, but at least we've got pot," after all. At least I think that's what it is. If it isn't, it should be. If the world doesn't end today, I'm going to write a letter. I put down the binoculars I've been using to assess the area for a moment so I can take a bite of my sandwich, cucumber and cheese, and a swig of of coffee, black and horrible. I wonder if I'm the first one to spot this hell beast rise from the deep and conquer the earth once more, if I get to be the one that officially names it. I briefly consider naming after my mother, but quickly discard the idea. It's too much of an inside joke. Wouldn't really appeal to the masses, or whatever is left of them after the destruction of every institution we know and hold dear. I'll have to think of something more clever. I resume scanning the ocean with my binoculars. The choppy waves reflect back to the sky a deep sullen color. The sun's light, filtered by the clouds, comes down bleak and bright, reflecting off the waves like arrows bouncing off a shield of gunmetal blue and bursting into slender shards of light. I check my watch again. Quarter past. If the world was going to end today, that would be the sort of thing that would start on time, right? It's looking more and more like today might not be the day the world is swept away by unthinkably ancient evil creatures from the deep. More's the pity. I have student loan debt. At this point, the end of life as we know it may be the fastest way to get rid of it. I resolve to pack and leave. I've got more reports to investigate, and as nice as the scenery is, I'm getting rather cold and the promised monster is already 45 minutes late. I shove all my things in my backpack. I get up and shake the sand off of my jeans, and when I look up, something catches my eye. There, in the distance, although looking impossibly close, a tentacle slowly squirms out of the water and makes its lazy way up into the air. The tentacle is as thick around as a tree trunk and easily extends twenty feet up in the air. The back is a deep mottled green, blue, but the underside is a sickly white grey, dotted with rows of massive, quivering suckers with pink centers who's edges tremble in anticipation of latching onto something, and in all likelihood, ripping the flesh off its unsuspecting victim's bones. I inhale sharply. Well this is an unexpected complication. The world might actually end today. Who do I need to call? Previous Post | Next Post